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by mattthedungeonbat



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22987291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattthedungeonbat/pseuds/mattthedungeonbat
Summary: How a young pantheon find themselves together again for the first time





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**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one, Dungeonbat! Chapter two is up to you, Bluelace! Plan? Don't plan? Write ahead? Don't? We'll find out next time on "What The Fuck Am I Writing?"!

Thursday

It’s been a moderately slow day at work. The weather is cloudy, so I imagine most people don’t want to be walking around. I’m not very good at guessing if it’ll be a good sale day so I won’t try. 

I’ve mixed up spell burnables and packaged and stocked. We’re still missing a lot of teas but I almost feel as if those are saved for me to do; I rarely come in and see another apprentice has stocked up on their shift. I know one of my coworkers had a scary allergic reaction to an unknown herb so maybe she’s been steering clear of the dirty work, I don’t know.

I lean against the front of the counter, looking out the front window. It’s what I would call a perfect Spring day-- cool, grey, and rainy, but not bitingly cold or annoyingly windy. Just clean. Fresh.

“It just got dead in here,” My manager Ceridwen remarks from behind the counter, looking out the window as well.

“It was pretty good for a while,” I say. Everything out of my mouth in a guess, honestly. I don’t know if it _was_ pretty good.

“We’ll see tonight,” She replies, pushing a cascade of red curls out of her face and then cradling her tea. “You can probably go early today, if it keeps being this slow.”

I won’t. I never do unless I’m physically in too much pain to stand. I need every second of pay I can get.

A young woman comes into view from the left of the sidewalk. She’s moving quickly, her face set in a mixture of annoyance and stress. Unusually pretty, for this area, I notice vaguely. When she’s nearly in front of the shop a man comes into view on the sidewalk behind her, clearly stalking.

“Oh,” Ceridwen says, sitting up a little. “That looks…”

“Yeah,” I agree cautiously.

The woman glances toward the window of the shop, her eyes catching mine for a fraction of a second, and I get an odd moment of deja-vu-- do I know her?-- before her face solidifies in decision and she lengthens her stride, throwing open the door to the shop.

I open my mouth, indecision stalling me because I know the door won’t close on it’s own and I don’t want it to let cold air in, but the woman is heading straight for me with a Look in her eyes that tells me to play the fuck along.

“U-um,” My manager begins, but the woman reaches me just as her stalker appears in the doorway.

I have a fraction of a second to note that up close, this woman is _definitely_ oddly familiar, before she throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. She’s taller than I am, but only by a few inches. And, knowing her stalker is _right there_ and realizing her game, I take her waist gently between my hands. When she pulls away, still looking mildly frantic, I smile wide.

“Hey, you!” I say, grinning. “I wasn’t expecting you today!”

“I-I just felt like surprising you, that’s all,” She demurs, relief flashing in her eyes for a moment.

“Hi, can I help you?” Ceridwen asks the stalker with stilted politeness.

“Jus’ lookin’,” He mumbles, and begins to lurk.

“Let me know if you need anything,” She says, flashing me a ‘crazy customer’ look.

Ceridwen and I make small talk with the woman for a few minutes until the stalker leaves. When the door closes behind him, Ceridwen’s eyes darken. 

“Did you know him?”

“No,” The woman mutters, not moving away from me much as she glances behind her. “He was just following me.”

“Give it a second,” I advise, tapping her waist gently. “He didn’t seem very hardcore but you never know.”

Ceridwen nods seriously. “I’ll make a scene if he comes back in. Go get her some tea, Lutfi, I’m sure you need some calming down.”

I nod and tug the woman towards the tea station. “Come on.”

“Sorry,” She mutters as I set the water to boil. She glances out the window nervously.

“S’a’right,” I say, waving it away. “I get it. Safety comes first, you know?”

She flashes me a quick, fondly exasperated smile. God, I’m sure I know her. It’s like talking to an old best friend you haven’t seen in ten years.

“Um, black tea okay?”

“Thanks.” 

I make two cups and hold one out to her. “Of course. Careful, that’s hot enough to hurt your tongue”

“Mm.” She sniffs the tea, still eyeing the windows, and then hums in approval.

“Come on,” I say, reaching out and tapping her elbow gently.

I lead her to the library and we settle on a couch together. Vaguely, I’m sure I shouldn’t be sitting down on a couch on the job, but Ceridwen and I are both Slytherins and she understands the necessity of protecting your community. If this woman looked into the window of an occult shop, spotted frumpy little goth me, and thought “yeah they’d make a believable partner,” she is _definitely_ my community.

“Um, what was your name?” She asks, not quite making eye contact. I don’t mind. It’s easier for _me_ to make eye contact that way.

“Lutfi,” I supply with an ironic grin.

“Loot-fee. I’m Jacquelyn.”

I titter a little. “Nice to meet you, Jacquelyn.”

She huffs a little laugh and sips her still-scalding tea.

“Have I met you before?”

The intense look she gives me makes me think my casual tone was unnecessary. I try not to notice that her eyes are near-black-- not just brown, _dark_ brown. She takes in a sharp, long breath through her nose.

“...no,” she settles on finally. 

“Hm,” I say, holding her eye contact. “You seem familiar.”

Something sparks. The air… something. I feel a bond snap into place around us, can see it in her eyes. She knows. We both do-- it’ll just be a game of chicken to see who says it first. She sips her tea, looking at me daringly. I smile and do a happy little wiggle in my seat.

Suddenly, a devious little smile crinkles the corner of one eye, and my breath is gone from my chest. I tell myself it’s nervousness at whatever she’s got up her sleeve-- nothing more. She tries to suppress the smirk, looking so pleased with herself, and I try not to look like I feel; as if I’m being beaten about the head by the wings of an enormous butterfly. She clears her throat, cutting me a glance before hiding her nose in her tea. I can’t help the huff of fake-offense and she snorts.

It’s not long before Ceridwen comes over from the counter, leaning against the bannister as she looks out into the evening.

“I haven’t seen him pass the shop at all, I think you’re good to go.”

“Thank you,” Jacquelyn says, looking up earnestly. Then she looks at me. “I really am sorry about--”

 _“It’s okay,”_ I interrupt her. “Really.”

“I think Lutfi’s more within your age range than I am,” Ceridwen jokes. 

“Exactly!” I pipe. “What else could you have done?”

“I…” She makes a froggy grimace down at her tea. “‘M gonna make a run for my car, I guess. Thank you again.”

“Anytime,” Ceridwen insists. “Don’t ever hesitate to camp out in here. We got you, okay?”

We see Jacquelyn out of the shop and after two quiet customers, the place is empty again.

“I just volunteered you for more kissing,” Cerwidwen notes, sounding surprised. She laughs. “I guess your fan club will have to get in line, huh?”

“I still don’t get why I have a fan club,” I say, heading for the broom. 

Closing goes smoothly-- no one to kick out, for once. I know I’m being quiet for the ride home, but I can’t get Jacquelyn out of my head. I wrack my brain for how I know her, even though I’m well aware I’ll have no physical memories of her from this life. I turn over the memory of her pale face in my mind, wondering if her sticky-outy ears will trigger some odd memory. I certainly can’t pull anything from her long-fingered hands or the small freckle below her collar b--

My hand flies to my collar bone.

It’s so stupid. It’s completely stupid, and definitely means nothing. But she had a freckle below her collar bone, exactly where I have one. On the same side, even. And it wasn’t because of her skin tone-- she was Asian pale, not white person pale. She didn’t have any other freckles I could see. Just the one, exactly matching mine.

Which is stupid. It’s definitely stupid.

I try in vain to put that out of my mind.

Friday

Friday is torture for me. A day off is normally cherished-- I’m in enough pain that I should be thanking the gods for this blessing. But my mind is stuck at work, stuck on Jacquelyn, distracted and monosyllabic.

When I wake up Saturday morning, I try to ignore the burning anxiety to see her again. I have no guarantee she’ll even be there today, she doesn’t know my schedule. But my skin feels hot with anticipation, and my mother writes me off as bad conversation with a huff.

At work, it’s a little easier to play it cool. Most of my coworkers don’t speak to me enough to be able to tell when I’m off, and Ceridwen isn’t the sort to pry. My _boss,_ on the other hand…

“You okay, sweetie?” Madge asks, glancing at me over her shoulder as she pulls down herbs to prepare for a customer.

“Yeah,” I manage blithely, just as Ceridwen breezes past with “A customer kissed her on Thursday.”

 _“Really?”_ Madge says with interest. 

I’m not blushing. I almost never blush. No, I’m not blushing. But I do scrunch up my shoulders a little. Ceridwen laughs and regales our boss with the story.

“Well that’s exciting!” Madge says. “I hope that poor girl got to her car alright!”

“I told her she’s welcome to come back and chill with us,” Ceridwen announces proudly. “Maybe we’ll be seeing more of her.”

“Well, I hope so,” Madge chuckles. “More customers is always a good thing.”

It’s a busier day today. Still grey, but busier nonetheless. The weekend does that to people, I guess. And this is a good place to come and spend some time when you’re able to wind down. I go about my work with the normal level of quiet proficiency, and I don’t think I’m any _more_ quiet than normal. I don’t talk a lot-- it maybe paints me as a little ‘different’ to all but one of my superiors but I get my work done tidy and fast, and I almost always greet customers with a smile so it doesn’t matter. But today, I _feel_ quieter. I’m waiting for Jacquelyn to show up, even if it’s silly.

And, halfway through the evening as the sun begins to set, she does. 

She steps through the door with a suppressed shit-eating grin, a curvy young woman with long blonde hair behind her. I step forward to greet them, my standard script at the tip of my tongue, but Jacquelyn beats me to it, gesturing to her companion. 

“This is Mneme--” nee-mee, the Muse of memory-- “My roommate.”

My mouth speaks of its own accord. “Forgot-Me-Not.”

Mneme grins, seemingly radiating sunlight, and this time I know that I know her. Not because I’ve met her before in person-- in real life. No, I met this woman in a dream, and she and Jacquelyn and I all know it. 

“Uh-- I, uh, hi,” I stutter, shaking her hand even though I never shake peoples’ hands. Jacquelyn is beaming smugly next to us and I shoot her a narrow eyed look.

I spend the day stuttering terribly every time I happen to catch Mneme’s cornflower blue eyes, but Jacquelyn’s smugness doesn’t abate and by nightfall I have the unpleasant notion that she has _another_ trick up her sleeve. I send her censorious looks every time I can, sometimes catching an amused Mneme in the middle, but the noirette simply smirks at me and does a teasing imitation of my little happy wiggle. God, she’s a brat. I shouldn’t be this fond of her. Mneme smacks Jacquelyn’s arm and I suddenly find myself sending a reprimanding look at the blonde, who lowers her eyes immediately in a silent apology.

All of us are insane.

They stay until an hour before closing, and on their way out the door Jacquelyn spins around to face me, walking backwards half a step before pausing.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I say, half-masking my wariness.

She smirks. “See you tomorrow then.”

Mneme rolls her eyes from behind Jacquelyn, suppressing a fond smile.

“I didn’t know you were into girls?” Ceridwen asks once the shop is empty.

“I, um, I’m-- I don’t know,” I manage, staring intently at my sweeping. It’s too complicated to explain, even to a bi woman. 

“That girl-- what was her name?”

“Mneme.”

“Mneme. I think she liked you. Jacquelyn certainly does.”

I shrug.

I almost hope neither of them _do_ ‘like’ me the way Ceridwen is implying. I think, without being able to know, that Jacquelyn at least is on my wavelength and Mneme is willing to get there. But I’ve misconstrued innocent camaraderie with flirting in the past. I try not to think of it as a ‘yuck’ if either of them did fancy me that way, but I can’t help the instinctive full-body shiver of ‘no touchie.’ 

Again, I go to sleep that night distracted, and dream haphazard dreams of blue eyes and smirks. Just before I awaken, I see a flash of cinnamon-red and I open my eyes certain of what will happen today and almost hoping to be wrong.

Saturday

There is almost literally _no way_ that what I think will happen could happen. It’s easily the most delusional thing I’ve ever believed in, topping a rather long list of shocking delusions. There’s no way, but baseless emotions are crowding through me anyways. 

My hands are shaking by the time I get to work. I don’t break anything, thank god, but I can _hear_ the signs louder than I ever have before. The air is painted with confirmations that what I think will happen will happen and I feel dizzy and high and a little nervous. There’s no way. There’s no w--

As soon as Jacquelyn opens the door, everything in the world ceases to exist except me and the young man behind her.

His face registers shock and then determination as he sees me and I feel like I’m borne across the room on a wave of power, feet hardly used at all. I fling my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his long hair as he crushes me to him, and maybe I’ll cry and maybe I’m hallucinating but I don’t care.

He’s here. He’s alive. He’s _real_ and he’s alive and he’s fine. Decades of worry that are based on nothing that’s happened in this life crush through my chest as I cling to him. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay. Memories I haven’t lived assault me-- big clumsy paws, short fur, a hulking man in an ugly bright red Hawaiian print shirt.

We lean back from each other, not letting go but making room to speak. He looks at me with the same syrupy trust that I remember, but with an added flavor of years of life experience and my heart hurts for having missed them.

“You look the same,” He murmurs, eyes tracing over my face.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

I smile a little, tracing the unblemished skin on the front of his throat. “You don’t.”

He laughs. 

“And do you go by…?”

“Julien,” He supplies, with the American pronunciation. “But you can still call me _Julie.”_

Zhoo-lee. The way it used to be. I hug him again, and even the flash of oddness from his human shape doesn’t stop me from being comforted by his presence. 

That’s how it started. The four of us, together seemingly by accident. Devious Jacquelyn, gentle Mneme, loyal Julie, and little old me. It’s funny how you don’t really notice how much something hurts until it doesn’t anymore-- I was fine without Mneme’s soothing presence or Julie’s constant hovering by my side. I was fine. But fine isn’t anywhere close to ‘good,’ isn’t anywhere close to ‘right,’ and with the four of us together I felt right. I felt like I was heading home-- and that’s what this whole story is about, isn’t it?


End file.
